


Darling

by salems_garden



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Baby, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, lots of darcy crying if you’re into that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21946351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salems_garden/pseuds/salems_garden
Summary: In a moment, everything can change- for our dearest Darcy, this event is the birth of his first child.———————————————————————A gift for my dearest @raviolionmydick because honestly, you’ve done so much for me these past months we’ve gotten to know each other and in all truth, I couldn’t imagine a world without your company. I love all your rants to me and all those times you spam me about things with more often than not, literally no meaning but just to hear from you is enough. Thank you for all your time and your open heart and the constant willingness to hear me rant about a new idea that I’m sure you could care less about at times. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, I love you bro
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 222





	Darling

Upon the first cries of his newborn daughter, Darcy could have sworn in a single, defining moment, all of his walls broke down- each individual sneer drawn on his face, endless glares and the rolling of eyes, snarky comments left to strangers, never to be seen again. They flooded through him without a care left, the only thing left in his eyes being his sobbing wife who spoke something unheard by his deafened ears and the child that lie restless in her mother’s arms, tossing and turning as small hands reached upwards.

It was as though, in that very moment where everything was darkened by white noise and the figures that danced about the room blurred in his vision, that something changed. He’d truly become a father, yes, that must have been it. Hours had been spent worshipping his wife’s body and their forming child, plentiful kisses gently settled across a growing stomach as he preached about a connection he’d yet to truly feel- until now.

Darcy hadn’t noticed when he began crying, only was brought to recognition when his dear sister pushed him forward to meet Elizabeth’s outstretched hand as he knelt by the birthing bed. Sweaty knuckles brushed away the tears and he was granted an exhausted smile as she began to draw back, only for her hand to be caught in his own. Pressed sweetly against his quivering lips, the man feverishly mumbled little nothings into her hand, eyes held closed as he wept a prayer of safe beings and praise for all she’d done, for the delivery of their child.

His chin was gently lifted, blurry eyes met with Elizabeth’s own tears as she tugged his hand gently and motioned up to the bedside that remained clean. Doing as his partner wished, the brunette stared dumbly down at the small blanketed figure that was passed in his direction yet his hands moved on their own accord. Darcy was deaf to the cooes of his sister and in-law, blind to his wife’s loving gaze and was met instead with a pair of bright eyes that gazed up to his curiously, a button end nose that scrunched with its owners features, and a chubby hand smacking around his arm before finally finding his thumb to grasp onto.

Lip being taken behind his teeth, he took a deep breath and held back another round of tears, letting out a breathy laugh instead. For a moment, he merely stared down at the small figure and allowed his heart to run wild in his throat, unable to think of anything than his newborn daughter. His first child.

From somewhere distant in the room though in reality all too close, he hears a name called and repeats it without thought.

“Valentine.” He echoes, a hollow man as he strokes the girl’s cheek. 

Receiving a stifled noise and the bottoms of small feet bound in boots pattering against his chest, his breath catches in his throat with a smile following suit.

“Valentine;” he calls, now full of an unspoken truth, a promise he’s yet to know of himself as he looks down at the darling girl that sits restless in his shaking arms. He repeats her name in a prayer, a vow of endless kisses and protection for years unseen, happiness unknown and love to rest within her ‘til time itself is brought to an abrupt halt.

To Darcy’s utter shock and misfortune, a nurse sweeps the bundle away from where the girl rest against his chest, now to be rest against the breast of her mother who was left in the instructions of both her experienced sister and the nurse who’d aided in the delivery. With his hands now empty yet the weight of his heart unwavering, the man is now just as impatient as his daughter as his hands clasp together in his lap as he stares on to the women next to him though it went against his better sense of propriety given the situation. 

He merely wants to scoop up his little girl and hold her yet again, allow his wife to rest easy against his side in a far off field where the three can live in ease, ways away from the stress that’s haunted Premberly since he himself was a child within its corridors. But even he knows what an unrealistic dream it is to hold.

In minutes, Georgiana recognizes her brother’s disdain from where she sits across from the room and silently makes her way to the nurse at Jane’s side to pull each away, allowing the couple some much needed space after the occurrence.

Elizabeth lies there for a moment in time, numb as ever and practically a pile of goo in the ragged linen stained with the evidence of a troublesome birth. “Darcy,” she calls out to her husband, momentarily relieving the hand that rests beneath the baby’s bottom in security, to reach for the man; “here.”

And ever the foolish man, he listens. Partially crawling to where the two rest, he joins his hand with rough knuckles and sweaty hands which he makes work in his worship, smooth kisses being pressed against each as he pleads to his goddess, a divinity unknown to him even within the walls of the holy and empowered. For a moment, his eyes wander over to their child who’s been rested against her bare breast and stares for a moment, staring at the gentle curve of her skull and the few curled hairs that have yet to gain pigment, still blonde in her state of purity. 

“She’s so small,” he murmurs into his wife’s hand, feeling his heart rise in his chest and he closes his eyes upon the scene; “you’ve done wonderfully, my dear, my  _ darling... _ she’s truly the most beautiful thing I’ve yet to lay my eyes on.”

Elizabeth makes no attempt to tease him for the statement, knows that the awestruck in his eyes and words are brought out of nothing other than an endless love and in all truth, she doesn’t wish for him to stray from such. Still weak from the act of birthing, she allows herself to go limp and the endless pillows provided by their maids and Darcy soon joins her, an arm wrapped sweetly around her waist as he nose presses against her neck; the three are left in silence, merely listening to the rapid hearts and unsteady breaths as the dream on in their distress of what’s to come, unnamed worries that are destined in the mask of their dearest Valentine’s being.


End file.
